


Life's a Bitch

by sciderman



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman/pseuds/sciderman
Summary: Peter Parker is exhausted, physically and emotionally.





	Life's a Bitch

“Exhausted?” 

 

The sudden voice instilled a panic in Spider-man, as he hurriedly wiped his eyes with his wrist, and yanked down his mask to cover his face. He coughed, hoping it would help his breathing process. As it was, his throat was tight, and he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.

 

“Could you – Could you leave me alone?” Spider-man said, voice choked. He didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. He really, really didn’t need this. 

 

“Dude... are you... crying?” 

 

“Could you please,  _ please  _ fuck off?” Spider-man pleaded, not moving at all from his perch to even look at his visitor. His hands gripped tight onto the concrete ledge he sat on. “I mean it. I’ll…” A sharp intake of breath. “I’ll throw you off this building. I can. I will.” 

 

“I know you can.” The voice said, having gotten so close it found a seat beside the hero.

 

The concrete had begun to crack and crumble under Spider-man’s grip. 

 

“You won’t, though.” 

 

For a split second, Spider-man wished that was meant as a challenge. He  _ wanted _ to. He wanted to throw  _ something.  _ Very far. As far as his arms could manage. He wondered how far that would be. Maybe he could send something into orbit.

 

But it wouldn’t be Wade. 

 

Peter heaved out a sigh, and with it his body loosened a fraction. 

 

“Exhausted.” Peter echoed, miserable. 

 

Deadpool scooted closer, not enough to overstep, but enough to be friendly. “Physically or emotionally?” 

 

Peter groaned, falling back against the gravelled rooftop. “You already know it’s gonna be both.” 

 

“Tell me about it. _ ” _ Deadpool fell back too, arms spread out above his head. The two looked up at the dreary, starless sky above them. 

 

It fell quiet. 

 

“No, I mean really, tell me about it. Date gone wrong? Ass handed to you by a B-lister? Or are you as disappointed about the new Kingsman sequel as I am?” 

 

“Oh. Thought you were being rhetorical.” Peter shuffled. “You know, for someone famous for their mouth, you’re suspiciously all ears today.” 

 

“Well, if you’d rather I’d use my mouth to cure your ails, I can think of one good way – “ 

 

“I really don’t do that kind of thing.” 

 

“Me neither! But for you?  _ Boy _ , I’d be willing to – “ 

 

“The  _ telling people about it _ thing.” Peter clarified. “Not the casual sex thing, I do that all the time, obviously. Just look at me.” 

 

“You joke, but that’s the mental image I have of you, and it visits me in my dreams.” 

 

Peter scoffed, half amused, half embarrassed. He felt that way a lot around Wade. Off-guard. 

 

“Generally I just grumble. At myself. In the mirror.” Peter said. “Or swear at the sky. At some pigeons. I don’t really do the talking to others thing.” 

 

“That’s cool.” Wade nodded. “But you know what else is cool? Sharing. You may have heard, but sharing is also caring.” 

 

“I thought that applied just to caring for others. Not yourself.” 

 

“It applies.” Wade affirmed. “Self-care, Spidey. It’s what all the kids are doing these days.” 

 

Peter considered it for a while. His eyes were fixed on a single star that made it’s presence known in the sky. 

 

Or it could’ve been a helicopter. 

 

Peter liked to think it was a star. 

 

“Got my ass handed to me today”, he said, giving in. “Not a B-lister.” 

 

“All your villains are B-list, Webs.” Wade received a shove in return. “Who was it? Octopus guy?” 

 

“...Yeah.” Peter swallowed, throat tightening again. “Yeah, it was pretty bad.” 

 

“You get hurt?” Wade asked, a genuine concern to his voice. He sat up a little, expecting to examine some kind of injury. Peter receded from his view. 

 

He thought back to it. On his stomach, bruised, battered. He didn’t have the strength to pull himself up from the ground, every muscle in his body screaming. He had been a ragdoll. Powerless. Octavius’ arms had been too fast. An upgrade that had taken Peter unawares. And he paid for it. 

 

That hadn’t been the worst part. Even though Peter’s body still ached, and would likely be assorted shades of purple when he examined himself in the mirror tomorrow morning, it hadn’t been the most painful part of it. 

 

Octavius hovered above him, his stupid, goggle-wearing face smug as a cat who’d cornered a mouse. Peter would’ve ripped Otto’s head from his shoulders if he had any strength left in his body. Otto said: 

 

“And here I thought I was fighting a Spider- _ man _ . But you’re not, are you? You’re not a man at all.” 

 

And Otto left, like that truly was the final blow. And to Peter, it was. 

 

Peter shut himself up, knowing his voice was starting to waver. He took in a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut. He didn’t want to cry. 

 

“Fuck him.” Wade said. “He’s got more in common with a squid than a human anyway. Gross, slimy, no business being on dry land… did I mention slimy?” 

 

“Octopus.” 

 

“Squid. Octopuses have more brains.” 

 

Peter opened his mouth to argue the fact that neither squid nor octopus technically had brains as invertebrates, but he changed his course. “Really, without the arms, he reminds me more of a sea cucumber.” 

 

“It’s uncanny! Sea cucumber with a bowl cut.”  

 

Peter laughed and Wade followed suit, until Peter winced. 

 

“Oh, yeah. I might’ve fractured a rib, did I forget to mention?” 

 

“Dude!” Wade’s shout was almost ear-piercingly high as he shot upright. “Should I take you to a doctor?” 

 

“Preferably one that’s not octopus-themed, please and thank you.” Peter joked, snickering a little at his own line before wincing again. “No, don’t. I can’t. Can’t risk my aun– I mean, my family finding out about this. I’ll be fine.” 

 

“Let me check you out –” Wade paused, rephrased, “Check  _ it _ out – check out – your injury.” 

 

“It’s alright!” Peter insisted, sitting up, shuffling away. “I’m alright. Thank you, Wade.” 

 

Wade didn’t look convinced. But he backed off. 

 

“Why do you care so much?” Peter said, not quite as loud as he intended it. 

 

Wade didn’t form an answer right away. For once, Peter thought, the first time he’d seen, Wade was carefully considering his words before he said them. 

 

“Life’s... “ Wade said, slowly. “Life’s hard enough  _ without _ all the extra shit you go through.” 

 

Peter was silent. 

 

Below, four cars passed through the empty street. 

 

“Really expected you to say  _ ‘Life’s a bitch’ _ .” Peter said. 

 

“Well… it is.”

 

Peter started to stand with a pained grunt, and Wade’s arms came over to Peter’s narrow shoulders, helping the boy stand. Peter’s first thought was to shove Wade away on instinct, but instead he let Wade bear his weight. He appreciated how slow Wade moved, even if Peter didn’t feel he warranted that kind of treatment. 

 

“You’re not going to web swing home, are you?” 

 

“Probably not the best idea,” said Peter, with a grimace. 

 

“I could… carry you?” 

 

“Okay, drawing the line there, buddy.” Peter pat Wade on the shoulder, “Good night.” 

 

“Night, baby boy.” Wade said, the grounding touch on Peter’s back briefly turning into a caress before he withdrew his hand. “Take care of yourself. Or I will.” 

 

“Sounds like a threat.” 

 

“You bet.” 

 


End file.
